


AU: Diana Didn't Die

by DarlaBlack



Series: Scenario: 5 Things [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 20:25:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15420897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlaBlack/pseuds/DarlaBlack
Summary: AU/5 Headcanons in which Diana Fowley doesn't die at the end of Amor Fati.





	AU: Diana Didn't Die

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the tumblr challenge, "Give me an AU scenario, and I'll write 5 headcanons for it." Some truly amazing stuff came out of this challenge, most way better than mine.

**1.**  Without the terrible news to give him, she doesn’t go to his apartment, so he finds her at work. “Mul-der,” she says in that way she has, and he is sheepish. His Yankee’s cap over the bandage is off kilter, so she straightens it gently and he smiles. Then he tells her about Albert Hosteen, and she frowns, doesn’t want to believe. She tells him about the keycard and book, something else she doesn’t want to believe. She feels lost. If Diana is really on their side, what chance does  _she_  have? What right does she have to think of him as hers? She cries because it is too much and she can’t help it, and he holds her to him and tells her about his visions. He tells her she is his constant, his touchstone, but the word she remembers most is “friend.” She touches his face, but she is too afraid to tell him how she feels, so she pulls away and says he should go home to bed.

 

**2.** Diana visits him at home later in the day. To check on him, she says, and to bring him lunch. He tells her he knows that she helped Scully, despite their differences; he thanks her. She smiles and runs her fingers through his hair. “I’d do anything for you,” she says. “I told you I loved you.” But he is troubled and uncomfortable. He’s never been good at dishing out rejection. Diana knows this. She pours herself a drink, hands him some warmed-up soup, and makes herself comfortable on his couch.

“I’m surprised your partner isn’t here,” she says.

He doesn’t answer. Scully has been there, off and on, for the past week, taking care of him. He is grateful for Diana’s help in saving his life, but he also remembers the reasons she was able to do so in the first place: her intimate connections with his enemies. Still. His head hurts and he doesn’t want to be cruel.

“Can I get you anything else?”

He shakes his head. “I think I need to rest.” He goes into his bedroom, hoping she’ll take the hint. 

But she stays.

 

**3.**  Wanting to be brave, thinking she might reveal what she couldn’t earlier and, failing bravery, wanting to reassure him of her friendship, Scully decides to bring him takeout for dinner. She calls to check on him before leaving work, but Diana’s voice answers the phone with a hushed “Hello?” 

“Oh,” she says, surprised. “I was calling for Mulder.”

“Fox is sleeping.”

“Oh.” It’s all she can say, and an awkward silence plays out across the line. Finally, she adds, “Okay. Never mind,” and she hangs up. There is a strange ringing in her ears. She swallows hard and hears a click. She feels scooped hollow, and there seems a little less color in the world than there had been five minutes ago. She doesn’t stop to get dinner on her way home, even for herself. Feeling like a rebuffed lover, angry at herself for  _making things personal_ , for falling in love with him when she knew she shouldn’t, Scully sets down her briefcase and bends slowly to sit on her couch. She stares at her empty coffee table for a full five minutes before she begins to cry.

 

**4.**  For the next week, Scully is distant and withdrawn. Mulder isn’t able to coax a real smile out of her, even with his best jokes. He tries so hard. Scully tries too, but she can’t make herself forget the sound of Fowley’s voice answering his phone, twice now. She zones out often, won’t make eye contact with him, steps back from his touch.

“Scully,” he finally says. “What’s going on?”

“I… Nothing. It’s fine.”

But he keeps looking at her—he knows it isn’t fine.

So she answers with a question. “Why does she get to call you Fox?”

“Who?”

“Diana.”

Oh. And he thinks he begins to understand. “When did she call me Fox?”

Scully gives him a look. “Always,” she says, then takes a deep breath. “And last week. I called you. I was going to bring dinner, but…”

“She answered the phone.”

Scully nods. And it finally, finally dawns on him.

 

**5.** She is on her couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt, glasses sliding down her nose, hair pulled back messy: reading, taking notes, “Free Bird” playing on the classic-rock station in the background. There’s a knock at her door that draws her reluctantly from the cushions. Mulder: jeans, gray tee, bag of take-out. His lower lip swells outward in an exaggerated pout as he lifts the greasy bag. “I’m sorry.”

She steps back to let him in. He sets the takeout on her table. “Sorry for what?” she asks.

“That I didn’t make it clear enough.”

“Make wha—“ she says as she turns, but she doesn’t finish because he’s kissing her. Scully’s hands go to his chest, first in surprise, and then in a desperate grip as she melts against him. His right hand curls in her messy hair while his other finds her hip and tugs so their bodies are held flush. She moans into his mouth and is lost, has never felt this way with another human being. He is kissing her like the world might end at any moment, and she thinks it just might. When they finally pull apart, her face is rosy with open desire and her lips are dark-wet from the sweet pressure of his. 

“You’re forgiven,” she says.


End file.
